The Best Chilaquiles in NYC

It’s only natural that a dish as ancient as the Aztec empire, chilaquiles—fried tortillas simmered in chile sauce—go through as many permutations throughout the centuries as it has. The dish starts with leftover, stale tortillas, usually from dinner the night before, which are cut into pieces, fried in oil to crisp up, and then sautéed in a spicy, chile-based sauce.

What was once an economical method to use up old tortillas has been built upon and transformed in an American context. We have loaded the simple, stewed tortilla with fried eggs, fistfuls of cheese, grilled meats, and squiggles of crema to create a hangover-obliterating mini-feast that anchors the brunch menus of dozens of New York City’s Mexican restaurants. The loyalties over whose style is superior—from soft as polenta versions to nachos masquerading as breakfast, and from red sauce to green—is a debate that will last much longer than any Senate filibuster.

Start the dispute over a platter of one of NYC’s best—here’s where to find them.

It’s only natural that a dish as ancient as the Aztec empire, chilaquiles—fried tortillas simmered in chile sauce—go through as many permutations throughout the centuries as it has. The dish starts with leftover, stale tortillas, usually from dinner the night before, which are cut into pieces, fried in oil to crisp up, and then sautéed in a spicy, chile-based sauce.
What was once an economical method to use up old tortillas has been built upon and transformed in an American context. We have loaded the simple, stewed tortilla with fried eggs, fistfuls of cheese, grilled meats, and squiggles of crema to create a hangover-obliterating mini-feast that anchors the brunch menus of dozens of New York City’s Mexican restaurants. The loyalties over whose style is superior—from soft as polenta versions to nachos masquerading as breakfast, and from red sauce to green—is a debate that will last much longer than any Senate filibuster.
Start the dispute over a platter of one of NYC’s best—here's where to find them.

Cholula Deli

Address and phone: 1481 Myrtle Ave, Bushwick, Brooklyn (718-497-4982)
The original Cholula Deli on Myrtle Avenue in Bushwick has, since its opening in 2004, multiplied into three. All locations are reliable, turning out well-done plates of grilled meats, moles, and antojitos. The chilaquiles ($8) are expansive: a crown of fried corn triangles, rings of white onion, lashings of crema, and what feels like an entire avocado, all softening in a thin, zippy red sauce the color of Hot Cheetos. A platter of rice and beans are served on the side, as if you didn’t already have enough food.

Mexico 2000

Address and phone: 367 Broadway, Williamsburg, Brooklyn (718-782-3797)
Under the rumbling JMZ train is Williamsburg’s Mexico 2000, a diminutive bodega that seems tiny but is as well-stocked as Bed, Bath, & Beyond. There are bags of purple ayocote beans, crumbly Mexican canela, fresh bunches of epazote, Corona Familar, and ten flavors of Takis taking up space with a small taqueria in the back doing the basics. The chilaquiles ($8) have been in rotation since 2000, and they are saucy, spicy, and straightforward, cloaked in so much cheese and sour cream you can barely see the red sauce pooling underneath.

Taco Santana

Address and phone: 301 Keap St, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY (718-388-8761)
Suffice it to say, there are not always leftover tortillas laying around. Many restaurants take a shortcut with chilaquiles and use crispy, fried chips as the base, making for a textural and crunchy eating experience. Taco Santana, a miniscule taqueria that deals mostly in takeout and delivery, sticks with tradition. Its chilaquiles ($6-8) are, by far, the best thing on the menu, rooted in the soft style that fries the tortillas until firm, so they emerge toothsome but are just shy of collapsing into mush. The softened tortilla strips are mired in red and green sauces that look pleasant enough but are off-the-wall spicy. The red variety, with crumbled bits of chorizo, will leave you panting. The green is one notch higher, a level of heat that kick-starts pleasurable tears—the kind of veteran-level BDSM dungeon masters are perpetually chasing.

Tacos Matamoros II

Address and phone: 5717 5th Ave, Sunset Park, Brooklyn (718-439-5647)
Tacos Matamoros II is the extension of Tacos Matamoros, a venerable Sunset Park institution that attracts gringos and professional mariachi band members. Though they might look like nachos, Tacos Matamoros II’s crispy chilaquiles estilo matamoros ($10) are best mined with a fork. They come lightly sauced in a scarlet mole that contains enough chocolate, guajillo, chipotle, and arbol chile to stain your fingers for a week. The slight sweetness and purring heat is offset by a drizzle of stark white crema and a flurry of dry, salty cheese.

Empellon Cocina

Address and phone: 105 1st Ave (212-780-0999)
Website:empellon.comAvailability: Brunch only
Warmed in a mild salsa verde made green with serrano chiles, onion, cilantro, and tomatillo, the fried tortillas for Empellon Cocina’s brunch-only chilaquiles ($12) are thoughtfully cut into scrabble-tile shapes, which makes the spoon-to-mouth access that much easier. Piled into a cast-iron Staub with firm black beans, two perfectly fried eggs, and micro cilantro, the dish is completed with shreds of tender, well-seasoned chicken confit—somehow, you always seem to luck out on receiving the chicken oyster.

Taqueria Coatzingo

Address and phone: 7605 Roosevelt Ave, Jackson Heights, Queens (718-424-1977)
This Elmhurst stalwart has an entire section of the menu dedicated to chilaquiles ($9–11.50). The green version is tart, with a bright, punchy heat and a color as verdant as clipped grass. Whether you get them with golden sunny-side up eggs, loaded with the chopped salted beef cecina, or just plain, doused in crema and cotija cheese, they will be hot, filling, and taste just the same at noon as they do a three in the morning.

Fonda

Address and phone: 40 Avenue B (212-677-4096)
Website:fondarestaurant.comAvailability: Brunch only
At both locations of Roberto Santibañez’s Fonda (the other is in Park Slope), roasted tomatoes, charred onions, and habeñero chiles are blended into the sauce for the chilaquiles ($12-17), which flicker with creeping, orange heat. Crunchy triangles of corn are sautéed with the sauce and shingled high on the plate with a crest of cilantro on top. With fluffy scrambled eggs or slices of grilled skirt steak, there’s enough protein here to abolish the painful reality of the previous night’s indiscretions.

Mexicosina

Address and phone: 503 Jackson Ave, Bronx (347-498-1339)
Mexicosina’s excellent red chilaquiles ($10)—presented in a huge, flat trough—can be had at each of its three locations in the Bronx. The tortillas melt into a brick red pool of chile sauce, and purplish flecks of housemade chorizo dot the plate, bleeding a warmly spiced oil into the mix. The carefully cut, ripe avocado fanned out on top and the white lines of crema that zig zag across the top help to counter the burn. If you don’t already have one, this is the closest you’ll get to having a Mexican mamá make you breakfast in the morning.

Lupita's

Address and phone: 1590 Lexington Ave (646-590-4202)
If you can snag one of their two tables, this tiny East Harlem taqueria offers a killer plate of chilaquiles ($9). The crunchy corn chips, or totopos, are lightly coated in a well-balanced green sauce of pureed tomatillos, jalapenos, and herbs. Niblets of seared chicken are sprinkled throughout, a drizzle of crema and fat rings of red onion crown the whole package. The refried black beans on the side are exceptionally creamy—in sum, it’s a plate that can do triple-time as breakfast, lunch, even dinner.

Tortilleria Nixtamal

Address and phone: 104-05 47th Ave, Corona, Queens (718-699-2434)
Better chilaquiles start with a better tortilla, which is why Tortilleria Nixtamal has a leg up on the competition. They take the time to soak and grind corn for their own masa. Fresh off the conveyor belt, the tortillas are wonderful as is, but when they are fried into thick, salty chips, they are even better. The taqueria serves chilaquiles rojos or verdes ($8.04), topped with two fried eggs, cooling chunks of raw tomato, and squiggles of thick sour cream. Lightly dressed and perfectly al dente, the dish is all about the deep, corn-y flavor.

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